


Defining Traditions

by zinke



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-20
Updated: 2007-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: A bit of Thanksgiving fluff to put atop that slice of pumpkin pie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of Thanksgiving fluff to put atop that slice of pumpkin pie. This story is set within the ‘Fruits of Communion’ universe, but it isn’t necessary to have read the earlier stories to enjoy this one. That said if you are so inclined, the earlier stories have also been archived here. Many thanks and a slice of pie go to caz963 for the beta and the many chats we’ve had over these many months – almost a year! How time flies when you’re having fun with a friend. 
> 
> I’m so grateful for all of the feedback and encouragement I’ve received for the stories I’ve written – while there is something to be said for writing for oneself, it’s always nice to know that there are others out there who enjoy reading these as much as I enjoy writing them. Happy Thanksgiving, folks – may it be filled with friends, family, laughter and way too much food.

* * * *

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”  
-Thornton Wilder

* * * *

November 22, 2007  
Thanksgiving Day  
Home of Congresswoman Andrea Wyatt

“What exactly is it you think you’re doing to that turkey?”

Toby shot a withering glance over his shoulder. “Josh, I’m standing here up to my elbows in giblets – do you really think now is the time to criticize?”

“I’m just saying,” Josh replied, leaning casually against the countertop to peer over the others man’s shoulder, “I’ve watched my mother dress many a holiday turkey, and I can tell you for a fact that she never shoved lemon wedges up its—”

“Joshua!” Donna cast her eyes behind her meaningfully as she stepped through the doorway and made her way towards the refrigerator. “There are children present.”

Stiffening, Josh scanned the room in an anxious search for the tender ears Donna had alluded to. “No, there aren’t,” he eventually replied, his lips relaxing into a self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, there could have been, so behave. And anyway, that’s the top of the bird, Josh. Not the backside.”

“Whatever. Was there an actual reason you came in here, or are you just here to give me a hard time?”

“Sounds like a legitimate reason to me,” Toby muttered under his breath 

“Juice,” Donna replied as she rose from behind the refrigerator door, waving the pair of juice boxes clutched in her hand for emphasis. “For the twins.”

Toby turned and narrowed his eyes. “Andi didn’t ask you to come in here and check up on me?”

“I don’t think it’s you she’s worried about.”

“Hey!”

Donna leaned in to give Josh a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hands off the Cuisinart; remember what happened the last time,” she called out just as she disappeared into the next room.

“Do I want to know what she’s talking about?”

Ignoring Toby’s question, Josh stood silently for several moments, his eyes lingering on the now vacant doorway, his brow furrowed in thought. “You realize we can’t win.”

Toby fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Win what, exactly?”

“With them,” Josh said indicating the next room with a small toss of his head. “If we try to help, they’re convinced we’re going to burn the place down. If we don’t offer to help, we’re patriarchal Neanderthals perpetuating the insidious pedagogical stereotypes that have plagued out society for generations.”

“So you finally admit it,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, “It’s only taken you the better part of a decade; not too bad for a Neanderthal.”

“That would have to be the part you overhear, wouldn’t it?” Josh groaned.

Toby shot the other man an incredulous look. “You’d rather she heard the entire thing?” 

“Right; never mind,” Josh replied hastily as he levered himself up from his perch against the counter, reaching out to envelop CJ in a hug. “You’re late,” he murmured affectionately.

“You can thank Daniel for that.”

“You’re not about to give me that jetlag crap again, are you? ‘Cause I’ve got to tell you, I’m still not buying it. We’re only three hours ahead, so really he should be—”

“Josh,” Toby cut in, turning with arms raised and his gooey hands held aloft like a surgeon’s, “go away now and bother someone else for a little while.”

Josh paled and swallowed thickly, his eyes fixed on the mess coating Toby’s fingers. “I’m just gonna, uh… ” he explained weakly before beating a hasty retreat out of the kitchen.

Toby met CJ’s bemused grin with a small smirk of triumph before returning his attention to the nearly dressed turkey on the counter. CJ ambled up behind him to peer over his shoulder as he picked up another lemon wedge. “Toby,” she started as she stepped around to get a better look, “I thought you told me that was how you roast a chicken.”

“I did. It works for turkey, too.”

“Ah,” she drawled, stepping back as she shrugged out of her coat. “Good to know.” 

“I thought learning to cook was on the list of things you wanted to do once you left Washington?”

CJ draped her coat and scarf over the back of a nearby chair. “I didn’t want to do everything on the list at once,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m pacing myself.”

The imperious glance Toby threw over his shoulder as he hoisted the laden roasting pan off the counter was all the response needed. “Open the oven door for me, would you?”

With a nod, CJ hustled over and pulled open the oven door, wincing slightly at the blast of dry heat that escaped as she did so. Stepping out of the way, she watched with interest as Toby carefully settled the overstuffed pan on the rack and began futzing with the placement of the adorning rosemary sprigs and the placement of the bird’s fleshy legs. “All set there, Toby?”

Silently rising from his crouch, Toby shut the over door and double-checked the temperature dial, then picked up the digital timer. “For someone who knows nothing whatsoever about the culinary arts,” he stated glibly, his concentration still focused on the timer, “you’re rather free with the sarcasm this morning.”

“I know plenty about the culinary arts,” she replied haughtily. “We own a waffle maker.”

“And do you know how to use the waffle maker, CJ?”

CJ narrowed her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be out there watching football or something?” 

“It’s not even eleven o’clock; the games don’t start until after one.”

“Well, the Macy’s parade, then.”

“Yes, because as you know one of my all-time favorite holiday pastimes is watching a never-ending procession of unrecognizable balloon characters being dragged down Fifth Avenue while accompanied by the Podunk, Oklahoma High School marching band.” 

“You can ‘Bah! Humbug!’ all you want, but right now it’s time to go and partake of some holiday cheer.” 

“You’re about a month early there, CJ.”

“If Macy’s can put Santa Claus in their Thanksgiving Day parade, then by my calendar it’s not too early for Ebenezer Scrooge, figgy puddings and goodwill towards your fellow man.”

“I find goodwill to be generally overrated.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said as she grabbed hold of his sleeve and steered him towards the door. 

* * * *

Sam shook his head decisively. “Legs first. It’s the only way to get a clear shot at the breast.” 

“No…no,” Josh replied carefully as he mulled over the problem. “Dad always told me the best way was to start with the breast. That way you’re able to get in at the right angle, and then the legs practically fall apart on their own.”

“Maybe we just need to get inside first, and worry about the rest afterwards?” 

“I’m begging you both to stop right now.” Toby cast a significant glance past the other men to where his son was sitting at the other side of the room watching the entire scene with unabashed interest. “It’s a turkey. More importantly, it’s my turkey and I’ll carve it any way I see fit.”

“But Toby, I think—”

“Josh,” Toby replied calmly, raising the carving knife in his hand to eye level, “do I look like someone you should be toying with right now?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Okay, then.” Toby turned to resume his consideration of the golden brown bird, cocking his head to the left, then right as he considered his plan of attack.

“So Huck,” Sam said a bit over-enthusiastically, “what did you think of the parade?”

Huck considered the question for several seconds before replying with all the seriousness of his father, “I liked the Muppets. And the big turkey with the hat.”

“Yeah, he was one of my favorites when I was a kid, too.”

“Really? He didn’t look that old.”

Stunned, Sam could only sit and blink stupidly as Josh covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle his amused snort. “Well Huck,” Josh replied once he’d recovered, “it’s amazing what they can do with cosmetic surgery these days. A little Botox can do wonders for the waddle.”

Huck turned to rest his chin on the back of his chair and peered at Josh with wide, curious eyes. “What’s a waddle?”

“Uh…” Josh quickly looked to Sam for help, but the other man merely shrugged. Turning back to the boy, he explained, “It’s the…ah, red…thing that hangs down from a turkey’s neck. You know, like this.” Josh pressed his bent wrist into the underside of his chin and waggled his splayed fingers at the ground to illustrate.

Huck’s look of confusion only intensified as he watched the older man’s awkward display. “You know Huck,” Sam offered with a devious grin, “You should go and ask CJ. She learned everything there is to know about turkeys when she worked in the White House.”

“Really?” the child asked, wide-eyed.

“Absolutely,” Josh chimed in earnestly, dropping his hand from his chin and favoring Huck with what he hoped was an innocent smile.

Within seconds, Huck had already clambered out of his chair and was hustling towards the doorway. “’Kay!” he called out brightly as he trotted into the other room.

Toby eyed Josh with mild reproach. “You just sent my four-year-old son to do your dirty work for you.”

“I didn’t exactly hear you telling him not to, Dad. Besides, he’s cute. He’ll get away with it.”

“You know,” Sam said thoughtfully, “We may have wanted to tell him not to mention that it was our idea to—”

“Joshua! Samuel! Get in here!”

Josh eyed the door warily, making no move from where he’d come to lean against the counter. “We really need to work on our execution.”

Sam nodded smartly. “I agree. It’s not that our ideas are unsound; it’s that we forget to consider all the possible outcomes.”

“Exactly.”

“You know what I think?” Toby interjected, dropping the carving knife onto the counter with a punctuating clatter, “I think you are both certifiable. Now get out of here before CJ comes looking for you. I have a turkey to carve.” 

* * * *

The muted sound of shared laughter drifted in from behind the closed butler’s pantry door and Josh paused to listen, a small smile tugging at his lips. Raising his eyes from the wine bottle and corkscrew in his hands, he paused as he caught sight of his reflection in the window, his features brought into sharper relief by the rapidly gathering twilight outside. 

He was working harder, longer hours than he ever had been before, felt the constant weight of his responsibilities upon his shoulders like a physical weight. Yet despite all of that, the man looking back at him in the glass looked more at peace and contented than he had in years. Josh considered it telling that he found himself both surprised and slightly confused by the realization.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

He sighed softly before turning to see Donna poking her head around the pantry door, watching him curiously. 

“Yeah. Just some trouble with the corkscrew. I’ll be out in a second.”

Her face relaxed into a bemused grin as she stepped fully into the room, leaving the door to swing shut behind her as she came up beside him. “Here, let me.” 

He relinquished the corkscrew without protest, sliding the wine bottle over to her before turning to lean back against the counter. Folding his arms casually across his chest he watched her steady the bottle and push the tool into the forgiving cork, the beginnings of a jaunty grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Did you miss me?” 

“Yes,” she replied softly and without hesitation as she began to twist, “I did.”

He blinked in surprise at her response, his expression softening as he regarded the remarkable woman standing next to him. A moment later the sound of buoyant, easy conversation again floated through the closed door, broadening his smile and strengthening the warm, peaceful feeling he’d been marveling at only minutes earlier. “I can’t remember the last time I had a Thanksgiving like this.” 

“Like what?”

“This,” he said, raising his hand towards the door and the host of friends, food and drink just beyond. “Last year, I didn’t even make it down to Mom’s. It’s only really been the two of us since Dad died, but even before that… it was never like this.”

Donna pulled the wine cork free with a pop and turned to Josh, her eyes shining. “So then what are you doing out here all by yourself?” Looping her free arm through his, she leaned and kissed him gently. “C’mon. You and Danny can fight it out for the last of the candied yams.”

“Yeah, never had to contend with that before, either,” Josh muttered as he allowed Donna to lead him back to the table and his friends. 

 

*fin.*


End file.
